Hearing Authenticity is a Muscle!

If hearing authenticity were a muscle, then every chance I have to speak or share feels like a workout. Some days are gentle stretching, others are heavy lifting—and some days feel like leg day for the soul.

But, like any workout, using that muscle takes effort. For a long time, I didn’t even know how to start.

Growing up hearing differently from most people, I spoke differently from other kids. I could feel the glances, the uncertainty of others. Add to that my motor coordination challenges—my love for exploring and touching everything around me often ended with something broken or dropped. My aunt even gave me a nickname: “Natasha the Earthquake.”

That name carried a message I didn’t fully understand at the time: that mistakes were dangerous, creativity was risky, and playfulness was unsafe.

Those early lessons quietly shaped who I became. In university group projects, I stayed silent, even with good ideas. At parties, I nodded along to conversations I could barely follow. When I eventually moved to Australia, I secretly hoped people would just think my speech was a foreign accent, rather than the sound of someone whose hearing works differently.

But hiding didn’t make me feel safe—it made me feel invisible.

For years, I tried to be perfect. I thought if I spoke flawlessly, if I never made mistakes, if I looked “put together,” I would finally belong. But striving for perfection was just another way of following that old “don’t touch it” rule from childhood—and it was exhausting.

Everything changed the moment I started listening to my inner voice saying, “Just show up as yourself.” That’s when I started training my authenticity muscle.

It began with tiny acts of honesty—asking someone to repeat themselves when I couldn’t hear instead of pretending. Stopping myself before apologizing for my accent. Noticing that each small moment of honesty strengthened something inside me.

Gradually, I began practising public speaking through a supportive community—it gave me space to find and strengthen my voice. I remember a speech I gave at Victoria Parliament, my hands trembling as I shared my story of life as a migrant woman whose hearing works differently. Afterward, an attendee told me, “Your courage helped me relax about my own insecurities.” That simple exchange reminded me that authenticity doesn’t have to roar. Sometimes it just whispers, connects, and makes others feel less alone.

Nowadays, I keep training that muscle each time I choose honesty over hiding. Meditation, self-reflection, and yoga help too. In yoga, balance isn’t a perfect pose—it’s a process. You wobble, you adjust, you breathe. For someone once called “Earthquake,” this gentle search for balance feels like a quiet victory.

So if you’ve ever softened your voice, tucked away the way you hear the world, or pretended to understand just to fit in—I see you. Maybe this week, take one tiny step toward showing up as yourself. It doesn’t have to be grand or public. Authenticity grows through repetition, one small rep at a time.

And if you ever need a space to connect, to share, and to be heard—the Hearing Bridge Movement is here for you.

We’d love to hear your story. How are you building your own hearing authenticity muscle?

Warmly,

Natasha Lourenço

Founder & Ambassador, The Hearing Bridge Movement